The Child of Fire
by Dawn Butterflies
Summary: AU. Kimiko, the daughter of a noble Japanese bloodline, has fire in her veins. And in the world of the elements, she will come to play a central role. Chapter One: All they saw was the pale ashen face of the usually very, very alive Lady Kimiko...


**Title: The Child of Fire  
Chapter One: Almost Like Fire  
Features/Notes:** Very AU-ish. Kimiko-centric fanfic. A on-the-spur-of-the-moment thing. Updates will come sporadically.

**Disclaimer:** Xiaolin Showdown does not belogn to me and I do not claim to own it nor use its content and/or character in a way to gain or profit. Writing credits goes to John Benhke (writer of Xiaolin Showdown) and Steve Cudan (series), among others.

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The household was very familiar with the _koto_ music of their mistress. Lately, the lady had been working on a variation _Sakura Sakura _and the drifting, melodic notes floated from her room on whimsical winds. Few people disturbed the lady when she was playing her _koto_. Most of them knew better. 

"Kimiko-_sama_." Obviously not all of them.

The shadow of a bowing figure was cast through the silkscreen door, and the small lady inside barely tilted her head to indicate that she had heard and her deft, slender fingers continued dancing over the strings. The bowing woman continued, careful not to speak over the music. "Ryo_-dono _wishes to speak with you." With those last parting words, the servant bowed once more and left, her footsteps soft, rhythmic noises against the wooden floors. The lady had said nothing in response, keeping her angry silence.

Eventually, the lady's smooth hands flowed to a stop and she moved them over the surface of her _koto_ with the gentleness not unlike the warmth a mother treated her child. The fine horse hairs had been powdered and treated to not risk pricking her fingers and the shiny mahogany wood gleamed at her from under the light. The vibrant pattern that had been painted on the wood shone, almost like it was real fire.

In the end, she withdrew her lingering fingers and stood up, long black hair tumbling down her shoulders to brush against her ankles as the gossamer fabric of her kimono was whispered from her movement. In truth, she hated being so delicate and ladylike; the only aspect she enjoyed of her inescapable imprisonment was her _koto, _and for a brief amount of time, the person who had taught her the art of _koto_.

It gave her joy to create something beautiful, something that was alive in the air could be not restricted.

With controlled and hateful movements, rather familiar and practiced even with the reluctance, she applied the customary make up to her face. Red painted her lips and dark blue dramatized her eyes. Kimiko refused to decorate her hair and merely chose a simple, glittering hair pin with dangling red beads to tuck up long, trailing bangs. Her masterful technique kept the hair firmly in place with just one hair pin where it might've taken others more.

A pair of tailored sandals waited for her by the door and those slipped on with the ease all tailored objects were meant to provide. Kimiko allowed herself time to admire the scenery and beautiful flowers they had imported from China. The Chinese styled garden smiled at her, serene and peaceful in their surety of existence. Three servants waited for her by the door of the secondary conference room in their complex, and with the sight of their coming mistress, murmured a reverent "Kimiko_-sama_," before bowing. She inclined her head and offered a glowing smile. They kept their bowed positions for the proper amount of time before straightening and sliding open the door for her, smiling faintly in return.

"Aa! Kimiko, you have kept us waiting." She bowed her body slightly in show of respect for her father before kneeling down on an embroidered cushion. "_Gomen nasai, Otou-sama_." Her voice was demure and beautiful, like her _koto_ played at her height of musical talent.

Her father, only in his late thirties, waved off her apology with a strong, hand, sunned brown from his own share of labor. "Kimiko, this is the Honorable Kaede. She is a very well-known _miko -- _Aa, Kimiko! Don't look at your father like that, I don't know why she is here either," he said laughingly at his daughter's expression.

"I have been given a mission, Ryo-dono." At those words, the laughter in his eyes faded and his face hardened as he looked into the wrinkled face of Kaede, whose eyes had misted over. "_Saa, otome_." Obedient, Kimiko stood and walked gingerly towards the old woman, sitting down in front of her as Kaede patted the empty space.

"So, tell me, Kimiko_-san_, were you the one behind that lovely _koto_ music?" Immediately, Kimiko looked away and cast her eyes upon the burning red-gold pattern of her kimono, a blush staining her cheeks. She had not known her music could be heard from this room. "Do not worry, child. It was lovely music." A fierce pride lit in her ice blue -gray eyes. Kimiko loved her _koto_ and she wished her old _sensei_ who had taught her -- both _koto_ publicly and feminine styles of fighting privately -- was still here.

"_Arigatou gozaimasu, Miko-sama_." And Kaede too, waved off the thanks with a churlish grin. She held out a wrinkled hand, the splotched skin like crumpled paper sagging from bone.

"May I touch your hand?" The words were insolent and rude, but her tone of immovable force forced even the tempered steel of Kimiko's will to bend. She lifted her hand, fingertips calloused from more than just _koto_ playing and the sleeve of her kimono touched Kaede's outstretched palm moments before her own slim hand did. Instantly, Kaede's hand clamped around her arm, inches above her wrist and her other hand shot out and two fingers taking the position that the medics in China might when trying to discern an illness or abnormality of the body. No one noticed -- except maybe Kimiko -- that the fingers had glowed red for an instant in the light.

Kimiko's open her mouth to scream, but no words or sound came out. Pain shot through her body like fire, clean, burning fire that threatened to consume her. Yet she felt no fear. The fire danced, tempting and beautiful in its own danger. The pain was a clean one, an overwhelming and all-consuming one that sang joyously for her presence. It wanted to claim her so badly, wanted this girl's soul in sync with its song.

The more blue-than-grey eyes rolled up as she fainted, collapsing into a pool of tragic beauty surrounded by glimmering black hair and expensive silk. Ryo had tried to stop the old woman that he was sure had gone insane, but body had been unable to move until he saw his precious daughter sink from her immaculate posture. The roar of a dragon ripped through his throat as he lunged forward, grabbing his daughter away from the surely crazy old woman.

"I treat you with respect and welcome you into my house hold and this is how you repay my hospitality, _onibaba_!" He snarled viciously at Kaede, cradling the unconscious girl even as guards stationed outside rushed in, swords half drawn, the inches of unsheathed steel screaming threats.

The old woman said nothing, her own face contorted in pain. No one noticed faint sheen of ruby dust under the coat of blood on two of her fingers. All they saw was the pale ashen face of the usually very, very alive Lady Kimiko and the blood pouring from two wounds on her wrist.

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Author's Note:** Don't know why, but I felt the need to submit a literate, well-written piece to a fandom that is the victim of many piece that lack both correct grammar and spelling, for the most part. That is not to say there are none, merely very few. :3  



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